User blog:BobTheDoctor27/Falling in the Black: Epilogue II
The Southern Continent had never looked sweeter as the three Toa and their Matoran companion broke clear of the tunnel. The freshness of the air embraced them instantly, tingling against the backs of their throats. Dawn had passed. The Twin Suns hung lazily in the sky, and for the first time in a millennium, Sarnii saw green. The atmosphere rested in such delicate equilibrium and was so transmissive that inanimate objects seemed endowed with two or three senses, if not five. As soon as the lavish grass tickled their burning feet all four travelers stopped to take in the scene that was unfolding before them. Flowers, trees, rushes, shoots and leafs intertwined amongst each other in natural splendor. There were verdant, overgrown hills stretching far off into a distant mountain range. No distinction between near and far existed. The Pollen floated lazily through the air, caught in an otherworldly, luxurious breeze. High up in the sky a flock of tiny Gukko birds trailed after one another. Vivid, bright light bounced off the sprawling foliage. The whole scene contained tangible warmth and nature seemed to open itself up and bloom, like the whole world was one big organism in bloom. “So,” muttered Sonitous after a minute of standing at the threshold of the destroyed Bohrok Hive. “We’ve single-handedly foiled the Brotherhood of Makuta’s latest world domination plot, rescued a Matoran, and laid the foundations for a long and lasting peace here on the Southern Continent. Not a bad day’s work.” “It is over,” Caliga muttered. “After Mata Nui-known how long, I am finally free for the first time in my life. To taste the freshness of this air… it is breathtaking. I can be whoever I want to be, live for myself, do as I want.” Her fingers flexed slowly, hungrily, by her sides. “There’ll be no more killing,” warned the Toa of Fire, clearing his throat huskily and taking up stance beside the female warrior. She didn’t give any sign that she’d heard him. “Says who?” she chuckled. Santis smiled sadly, his eyes drifting off into empty space, a warm smile on his face. That was indeed the question of the hour. “What of you, Toa of Sonics?” asked Caliga, assessing the landscape before her with the eyes of a huntress. “You have your freedom as well. What will you do with it? Will you join us?” The shield-carrier thought about it deeply, then nodded. “I am grateful to you for including me in the rousting of the Bohrok Kal – that was sport I shall not forget in a hurry – so I will stay in your company. Besides… there is someone in Metru Nui whom I wish to meet once again.” “And what of you, Santis?” smiled Caliga wolfishly. “You still hunting De-Matoran?” Sonitous’ audio receptors pricked and his mouth hinged open but the Danju-wearer silenced his queries with a curt wave of his hand. “I was never hunting Matoran,” he corrected. “I was under a false impression and have now awakened to better judgment. I shall embrace Tollubo as an ally when I find him.” The soundless, tranquil scene of a universe in balance impressed the Toa of Fire as a positive entity rather than a mere negation of noise. But there was a murmur on the warm, sticky waft. The hush was broken by an airy tune. The woodwind was spirited. Notes wandered in the still air with a stark quality like that of nudity. To speak absolutely, both instrument and execution were sensual and enticing. All four travelers glanced at one another in fascination. For a long moment, none of them could bring themselves to move. The music was faint at first but, gradually, as the harmonious melody meandered through the trees, it seemed to demand their presence. The travelers found themselves edging closer in search of the performer. The outskirt of the opening that they found themselves in had been left uncultivated for many year, and was now damp with plush, juicy grass, which sent up mists of pollen at the touch. Tall blooming weeds emitted offensive smells – weeds whose varying hues of yellow and purple were as dazzling as cultivated flowers. The four wanderers picked their way through the confusion of growth stealthily. They drew closers to the music, still unobserved by the mysterious musician. None of the warriors were conscious of neither time nor space. It was like gazing at the one star that burned bright in the night sky. Sarnii felt herself undulating upon the thin notes of the flute. The harmonies passed like breezes, tendering even Caliga. The floating spores seemed to be notes made visible. Waves of color mingled with waves of sound vibrantly. Sat under the shade of a Madu tree, his back against the truck, sat a Fa-Matoran, a straw hat perched on his head and a leather satchel slung over a nearby tree branch. He concluded his wordless song tentatively; a simple performance, demanding no real effort yet blessed with skill. A distant smile adorned the natural grin of his Kanohi Miru as his eyes fell naturally upon his audience. “At long last,” beamed the Matoran of Magnetism, placing his instrument gently into his satchel. “We finally meet in person.” Four blank faces stared at the strange musical Matoran until a slither of recognition manifested in the eyes of Toa Sonitous. “''Pofia!?” he murmured in wonder. “Is that you?” The Fa-Matoran regarded the Toa of Sonics with an even broader smile. “I see you have changed your mask, Sonitous,” he noted. “That simply will not do. Mata Nui has given you one face, and you make yourself another? Shame on you.” Reaching into his satchel once more, the Matoran produced a dull, grey Kanohi Arthron and handed it to the startled Toa, who held it hesitantly then tore off his Noble Huna and clamped the new Kanohi on. Instantly, the grey mask altered to his face, adopting a rich black color. “Much better,” beamed Sonitous from behind his new Mask of Radar. His latest choice of head-ornament was only a slight improvement from the Krana that Santis and Caliga had found him wearing. “You have spare Masks for all of us in that magic bag?” snorted the Toa of Lightning. Pofia smiled at the joke. “I have been following Toa Santis since his untimely arrival. In fact, it was I who planted his weapons in the swamp.” The Toa of Fire cocked an eyebrow, casting his mind back to when he had arrived in this universe. Indeed, he recalled stumbling across his Fire Sword and cape atop a hillside. He had remarked the event as strange even then. “You knew that I would travel down that path,” he muttered. “And you knew that Sonitous had lost his Kanohi in the Hive. How could that be?” The Fa-Matoran pursed his lips and looked up into the sky, his straw hat tilting back. “I serve a higher power,” he answered loosely. “The ''Lady of the Wilds. She is an ancient and legendary protector of Matoran. It was her will for me to be here, to impart you with these weapons and masks; but most importantly of all, she has charged me with the protection of an important document.” The Miru-wearing Matoran reached into his satchel one final time and pulled out a tightly-bound scroll. It was knotted with a crimson ribbon. The paper looked old and discolored, but the seal was fresh and there wasn’t a crease to be seen. “This is Ramonda’s Scroll of Judgment,” he announced proudly. “A list of Matoran who my mistress has foreseen in the next generation of Toa, a group she calls The Warbound. It is my charge to bring this to Metru Nui, else the woe shall be universal.” “A list of Matoran destined to become Toa?” inquired Sonitous dutifully, still adjusting the angle of his new-found Kanohi Arthron. “If I’d known we were having a reunion I’d have gotten you something too.” “Think nothing of it, old friend,” winked the Fa-Matoran, taking a step forward to inhale a deep lungful of air. “What of your comrades? May I count on their allegiance?” Caliga narrowed her eyes and looked down on Pofia contemptuously. “Do you have a weapon?” she asked bluntly. The Matoran of Magnetism reached into his pack and produced a short staff. Mounted on the end of it was a rather heavy-looking pincer claw on a hinge. It looked like a utensil that would’ve been found in a Ta-Metru Forge. “You survived out here with a glorified pair of tweezers?” The Toa of Lightning was instantly impressed. No doubt the strange Matoran was therefore a capable warrior in her eyes. She was probably thinking of a dozen different ways to throttle a Rahkshi with the archaic weapon. Pofia beamed broadly then turned to Santis and Sarnii. The Vo-Matoran glared at him, an eerie sense of unfulfilled resentment emanating from her. “The fates are indeed kind today,” smiled Pofia upon seeing her. “Another old friend returned to me. You have met with things dying, and I with things reborn.” “I’d need a Kanohi Rau just to make sense of you,” sighed the Vo-Matoran, looking away. Her eyes were wistful. A deep gloominess hung over her. “How about you, Santis?” asked Sonitous, placing a hand on his fellow friend’s shoulder. “You took quite the mental beating down there. You still up for one final round guarding a bunch of Matoran?” The Toa of Fire shared the same pensive expression as Sarnii for a long moment. But then he heaved a deep sigh and looked up, a smile on his Kanohi and the lights in his eyes bright once again. “I feel at balance,” he murmured in an uncharacteristically light tone, carefully observing and moving into the center of the green amphitheater. “All this time I thought that finding this Tollubo would bring me peace of mind. But I don’t need him to tell me who I am anymore. I honor back and a whole future before me. My conscience is clear for the first time in far too long.” “The path ahead is long,” added Pofia. “But the road to redemption is not measured in kio. Where does your journey take you?” The dignitary Toa of Fire’s smile matured into a grin as he looked from the faces of his teammates, to the unending sprawl of rural majesty that encompassed his newly-enhanced field of vision. He knew that this feeling would be one he would remember for the remainder of his days: the moment in which he had awakened to the world around him and finally walked the inward expedition to find himself. A moment like this needed a symbol to be remembered by. With a sharp tug, the Toa tore the burnt, tattered remains of his robe off then burnt it to ashes in his fingertips. A sacrifice. His old, directionless self as a cloaked wanderer of Voya Nui was dead. “My journey takes me to Metru Nui,” he answered calmly. “But not for Tollubo. I travel in search of a Turaga.” His teammates exchanged blank glances. He only smiled wider. “A Turaga?” asked Sarnii from down, amongst the wildgrass. “That’s the tradition, isn’t it?” asked the Toa of Fire. “Turaga can rename you. They can give you a whole new identity.” “Why do you want to change your name?” frowned Caliga. “Because Santis isn’t my real name,” snorted the Toa of Fire. “And I really like the sound of… “''Toa Kazat''.” With that final remark, the Toa of Fire threw his head back and let out a single laugh, before turning and starting the first leg of his new trek. The others shrugged then fell in behind him, no longer sure exactly what they were dealing with anymore, but still certain of the gravity that this strange Toa held in his footsteps. It was the stride of a king. Category:Blog posts